


Learning

by Denise



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tag to Bloodlines</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning

Learning  
By  
Denise

* * *

Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

* * *

  
  


Murder: The unlawful killing of one human being by another, especially with malice or aforethought. To kill unlawfully, to mar or spoil by ineptness.  


Well, that's an ethnocentric definition if I've ever heard one. Totally understandable since the guys that wrote this have no idea that there are more than humans in the universe. Maybe they should change "human being" to "sentient being"? They'll likely have to do that one day. Okay, so we'll rewrite the definition.   


Murder: the unlawful killing of one sentient being by another, especially with malice or aforethought. To kill unlawfully, to mar or spoil by ineptness.  


Murderer: One who commits murder. I committed murder; I'm a murderer. My, wouldn't mom be proud?  
Why did I do it? You know, I don't really know. I remember standing there, staring at that vat, those pale slim forms twisting and turning in the water. It was like shooting fish in a barrel, at least I think it was. Never did that before, either. The principle's the same, I guess. They were defenseless. Totally defenseless. I have no idea how well a symbiote's eyesight and hearing is…could they even see out of the tank to have any idea what I was going to do? Of course, even if they had, chances are none of them had any idea that that thing I pointed at them was a weapon. Just like centuries ago, when Europeans pointed firearms at various natives…who had no idea that little "fire stick" was a deadly weapon. They'd literally walk into the line of fire, not knowing they were making a fatal error.  


Does that justify what I've done? Just because my victims were ignorant of what was happening to them, does that absolve me? It didn't absolve the Nazi's. Some of the Jews had no idea they were calmly walking to their deaths in the gas chambers. They were killed for no other reason than their religion. Those Goa'uld were killed for no other reason than they were…Goa'uld.  


Hitler claimed it was for the good of the Aryan race… I thought I was saving human hosts. Since when did one sentient race become worthier than another? What gives me the right to choose? Why did I pull that trigger? Was I saving future hosts or exacting revenge on the only victims available to me? Isn't this like killing every shark to make sure you get the man-eater before it gets you? We condemn people who do that. Shouldn't I be condemned?  


No one has. Is that because they agree with what I've done? Or do they even know? Jack knows that we made the little detour to the temple-we couldn't exactly deny that-especially since we had the Goa'uld with us. That was kinda hard to ignore.  


He never asked me about it, though. Does he know about the Goa'uld? Does he know what I did at the temple? There wasn't really time to say anything on the planet. And Bra'tac's reaction sorta made me keep my mouth shut. If stealing a Goa'uld was a sacrilege, killing them was probably worse. And since ticking your guide off isn't exactly a smart thing to do, I kept my mouth shut.  


I wonder if Sam said anything. She didn't on the planet, but if looks could kill, I'd be slightly toasted right about now.  
I endangered us, I know that now. The power of hindsight. It's no coincidence that the Jaffa were following us. I almost got Sam killed. Given that, it's a miracle she hasn't gone running to Jack to tell him. I mean, yeah, we saved Teal'c but…if it wasn't for Bra'tac, we'd have been lucky to get back to Earth in one piece.   


My little bit of, whatever it was, almost turned our mission into a suicide mission. My own death I can deal with. Not that I'm ready to jump in front of a speeding truck or anything, but I can take responsibility for myself. But this wouldn't have just affected me. I would have gotten Sam and Jack killed as well. Or maybe not. Maybe they would have ended up hosts? God, I would have been as responsible for them being hosts as Teal'c is for Sha'uri being a host.  


That would be worse than getting them killed. Death is …relatively painless. Possession…an eternity.  


Would that have been worth it? Exchanging Sam and Jack's lives for people I don't know? I know they'd likely choose that in the right circumstances, but…I have no right to make that choice for them. I resented the hell out of the fact that the military let me talk my way onto a suicide mission two years ago…and here I am making that decision for my teammates. Some friend I am.  


I gotta talk to Sam. Tell her I'm sorry.

 

 

I find her in the armory, of all places. Talk about the last place I'd look. I know she visits here, but it's pretty much like how we visit the commissary. Come, eat, talk, and leave. Or in this case, come, check out weapons of mass destruction, and leave. Not a place I'd choose to hang out.  


Yet here she is, seated at a table, a pistol in pieces in front of her. As I stand by the door, I watch her carefully clean each piece, then snap them together with a metallic snick. The room is heavy with the odor of gun oil and the faint aroma of gunpowder. As I watch, she finishes with one pistol and puts it away, reaching for another one.  


She methodically takes it apart, pausing to push her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. I see her set the pieces down and raise her arms, stretching her back. She yawns, then bends back over, picking up the pieces of the pistol.  


Just like before, she wipes each part clean and puts the weapon back together. She puts this one away and reaches for a third. This doesn't seem normal, Sam cleaning guns. Usually there's a couple of sergeants that take care of that.  
"Sam?" I say, stepping into the room. She looks up, a bit startled. I've noticed that she does that, develops a bit of tunnel vision when she's working on something,  


"Daniel. I thought you'd gone home." She reaches for a rag and wipes off her hands.  


"I aah…was getting there. What are you doing?" I nod towards the dismantled weapon.  


"What? Oh. Just cleaning the gun," she says.  


"Why?"  


"Well, a dirty weapon can jam when you need it, or worst case scenario, blow up in your face," she explains to me, using almost the same tone I've heard her use with Jack when he's demanding explanations. I wonder if she ever taught kids? She's got the lecture tone down pat.  


"Yeah, I know that. I got the lecture when I had to qualify on my pistol. What I mean is…are you going to clean every gun in here?" I motion at the locked cabinets and shelves containing dozens of pistols and rifles. The ones on the far wall contain the ammunition, and I know the big heavy box has grenades in it. There's enough stuff here for a small war. And if I overheard Jack right, he wants some bigger stuff, mines, explosives and the like.  


"Not quite all of them," she admits. "Just about forty or so. You know, Daniel, you should go home. We do have an early briefing in the morning." She deliberately picks up the parts and starts to clean and inspect them.  


"Which begs the question of what you're doing in the armory at eleven p.m. cleaning weapons that aren't yours when we have a briefing at eight a.m.?" I push. I tend to do that. It's a bad habit of mine.  


"It's a military thing, Daniel," she dismisses. She doesn't want to talk about it, which just makes me more curious.  


"Military thing?"  


"Yeah."  


"What kind of military thing has you staying up all night doing something that someone else can do in the morning?"  


"Orders." I look to the doorway and see Jack standing there, his shoulder against the doorframe. Guess Sam isn't the only one with tunnel vision.  


"Sir." Sam hops off the stool and stands up, holding herself at attention.  


"As you were," Jack says and she relaxes, although she doesn't sit back down. "Status report, Captain?"  


"I'm almost done, sir. I should be finished in a couple of hours."  


"Okay. When you get done, grab some sleep in one of the bunkrooms. I don't need you wrapping your car around a phone pole."  


"Yes, sir."  


"Carry on. Danny." Jack motions for me to follow him.  


"Sam?"  


"Good night, Daniel," She dismisses me with a small smile.   


Okay. I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid. I can take a hint. More than a little puzzled, I follow Jack from the room. He strides purposefully down the hall and I have to hurry to catch up.   


"Jack?" I ask as I reach his side.  


"Yeah?"  


"What…aah…what's up with Sam?"  


"What do you mean?"  


"I mean I didn't think cleaning guns was part of her job."  


"She's a soldier, Daniel. Weapons maintenance is part of the job."  


"That's not what I mean and you know it," I say. He's deliberately being obtuse. He has a bad habit of doing that when he's avoiding something.  


"Look, Daniel. It doesn't concern you."  


"She's my friend. It does so concern me," I insist. "She was off duty hours ago; you were off duty hours ago. What's so important about those pistols that they have to be cleaned tonight?"  


Jack sighs and clenches his jaw. Okay. Now I've done it. "They had to be cleaned tonight because I ordered her to clean them tonight."  


"You?"  


"Aah," he interrupts my interruption. "I ordered her because the concept of following orders seems to be a bit of a problem with the captain."  


"I don't…"  


"Let me refresh your memory, Daniel. I seem to recall saying something earlier today about going to the gate and being prepared to lay down cover fire. Or was that a figment of my imagination?"  


"Well, yeah but…"  


"And nowhere in there did I say anything about a sightseeing tour to a monastery…"  


"Actually it was more of a temple…"  


"Not to mention stealing a Goa'uld and letting the Jaffa know that we were there."  


"That Goa'uld saved Teal'c's life."  


"And that's the only reason I'm not bringing her up on charges of insubordination."  


"It was my idea."  


"That's not what Carter says. Do I get to add lying to her list of screw-ups?"  


"What did Sam say?" I have to know.  


"That the two of you saw the procession, followed it and found the snakes. You snagged one and in doing so, alerted the Jaffa to your presence. You headed back to the gate. She took out three Jaffa that were following you, alerting the whole planet that we were there. Which, by the way, is why we nearly didn't make it back."  


"It's not her fault that the Jaffa knew we were there, it's mine," I tell him.  


"Yours?"  


"Yeah, mine," I admit.  


"What pray tell did you do, Daniel? Graffiti the temple walls?"  


"No. I…"  


"You what?"  


"I…destroyed the tank," I confess grudgingly.  


"What tank?"  


"The tank the Goa'uld were in. They were in this tank outside the temple, totally unguarded. Sam got one to take back with us and…"  


"And?" he prods.  


"And I destroyed the tank," I admit defiantly.  


"How exactly?"  


"When she…went for the Goa'uld, Sam gave me her rifle and…" 

"You used it," he finished.  


"Yeah. Jack, every one of those symbiotes were going to take a human host. I couldn't not do something," I declare.  


"How many?" he demands.  


"What?"  


"How many Goa'uld did you kill?"  


What does this have to do with things? "Umm…four or five, I think. I didn't really look. Why?"  


"You got five Goa'uld. Carter said she got three Jaffa with the grenade, then Bra'tac took out two priests and a Jaffa." Jack ticks each off on his fingers.  


"Took out?"  


He merely gives me this look. The one that translates to "I know you have more than two brain cells." He's right. That priest knew who Bra'tac was. He'd have to kill him. That or leave the planet, and I don't see that happening. "So you risked the mission and our lives. Cost the lives of four Jaffa and two priests to save the lives of five people that might become hosts sometime in the future? Assuming of course the Jaffa that got the snakelets actually survived until they were mature enough to take a host."  


"Umm…yeah. You can't tell me you wouldn't do the same?" I counter. It sounds so bad when he puts it that way.  


"No, Daniel. I wouldn't. And I'll tell you why. Those Goa'uld were not a clear and present threat."  


"Not a threat? Come on! They were going to be implanted!"  


"Yes. In a Jaffa."  


"Jack…"  


"No, Daniel. If they had had hosts all lined up like last time, then maybe. But they didn't. You heard Bra'tac. They weren't ready to be implanted yet."  


"They must have been close to ready since Teal'c is still alive," I argue.  


"And Teal'c wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for those larvae. For all we know, five Jaffa may die when their snakes grow up and there aren't any replacements."  


"Since when do you care about Jaffa living?"  


"Since I took a look at Teal'c's family. Daniel, I'm not saying I'm never going to kill a Jaffa again because that'll be a lie. I'm just saying that in an odd way, they're just like us, soldiers following orders. Hell, take away the pouch, and they're just as human as we are."  


"I thought killing people was a soldier's job?" I counter.  


Jack sighs and lowers his voice. "When I got my first posting there was this major. Real good man. Someone I looked up to, in fact. Everyone on base looked up to him, respected him. One day we went on a mission together into one of those middle eastern countries. We were to infiltrate and gather some intel about enemy activity. The group split up and he and I got separated from the rest. When we were regrouping with the others, we came across a camp of nomads. We hunkered down and waited until dark to get around them. He left me for a bit and slipped into their camp. He came back about a half hour later, his knife literally dripping blood."  


Jack pauses and looks me in the eye. "He slit their throats. I asked him, why? Why did he have to attack these guys in cold blood? We could have made our way past them undetected; they didn't have to die. He told me that he was doing me a favor. That those four nomads would have eventually helped out the bad guys. That just like using a good herbicide at the first glimpse of a dandelion, you have to nip these things in the bud and prevent them from gaining a foothold. That every 'innocent' nomad he killed now meant one less terrorist to have to deal with in the future. Daniel. You're going to kill again. I'm going to kill again. That's inevitable. We just have to make sure that we're killing for the right reason. Because if the day comes when we're killing for the sake of killing…it's time to pack it in," he says quietly, sincerely.  


I look at my friend and see the truth in his eyes. I'd be lying if I didn't say it was a rush. Firing that gun had given me an almost giddy feeling, a surge of power. Power that I'd abused. It made sense now.  


The sense of brotherhood of purpose among the personnel that makes me feel so much like an outsider. These people are all united by a duty, a responsibility; all sharing the burdens they'd chosen to take on. Their willingness to do the jobs that the rest of us find too distasteful to do. And they do these jobs by clinging to strict rules and codes of behavior and responsibility. Rules Sam and I sorta bent a little.  


"That's why she's cleaning the guns," I say, the pieces falling into place.  


"Daniel. When we're off world the only thing we can count on is each other. And I need to know that when I tell you to do something, you're going to do it. I need you to be where I tell you to be, not because I'm a jerk or control freak but because I can't protect you guys if I don't know where you are. If you want to explore, fine. Just let me know you're going to explore," he says sincerely. "Yeah, Carter is cleaning those weapons as punishment for running off today…"  


"I told you…" I interrupt.  


"It doesn't matter if it was your idea or her idea. She's my second-in-command. I have to know she's going to follow my orders. And part of her responsibility is to make sure you and Teal'c also follow my orders. It doesn't matter whose idea it was. What matters is that you two were supposed to be by the gate."  


I sigh. I hate when this happens. "You're right. We…screwed up." Jack frowns a bit and I see a puzzled look cross his face. Yes, Jack. I can admit it when I'm wrong. "Can I go help Sam?" I ask.  


"What?"  


"Well, her punishment should also apply to me," I say, feeling a little guilty. Yes, it had been her idea to follow the priests in the first place, but I'd been the one that alerted the Jaffa to our presence. If I hadn't destroyed that tank, it might have taken them hours or days to notice they'd lost a Goa'uld.  


"If you want to," Jack says. "Tell her I said it was okay. You could probably use the practice anyway."  


Biting my tongue, I turn and go back to the armory. It takes Sam and me about another hour to reach her quota and by then I can almost put a Beretta together with my eyes shut.  


We secure the weapons and then the armory, both of us yawning loudly. Given the lateness of the hour, the halls are pretty empty and it doesn't take long to reach the bunkrooms. Sam tells me there's a rumor that we'll all get our own rooms. That would be nice. Then again, having a guaranteed place to sleep makes it easier to put off going home.  


"Sam?" I say as she opens the door to the room.  


"What?"  


"About today…"  


"Today is over, Daniel," she interrupts.  


"I know but…I'm sorry."  


"For what? Going off was my idea."  


"No. For killing the Goa'uld," I tell her. "It was stupid and it nearly got you killed."  


"Yeah, it was. And it did," she admits. "But I know why you did it," she smiles.  


We say good night and she shuts the door. I head off to the room down the hall. We may bunk co-ed off world, but on earth she fiercely guards her privacy.   


I grab a room and lock the gray, metal door. Taking off my boots, I lie down, pulling the blanket up against the ever-present chill. No matter what they do, no structure built of cement three hundred feet under a nine thousand foot tall mountain will ever be warm.  


As I stare at the shadows created by the light seeping around the door, I think about today. We didn't bring back a Goa'uld for the NID to experiment on, but we did save Ry'ac from dying of scarlet fever.  


I saw for the first time the true price Teal'c paid when he saved us. He didn't just give up his job and his planet; he sacrificed his family to save us. He had to know the price they'd pay, yet he saved us over them. I don't know if I could have done that-sacrificed Sha'uri to save strangers. Then again, this morning I didn't know I could fire a gun without being in fear of my life.  


As I learn more about the universe, I'm learning more about myself. I may not like it all, but it's a part of me. A part I need to learn to live with.

~fin~


End file.
